I am not afraid of your pain, dear one.

there is a wounded healer in all of us.

intertwined and tangled in the dark and light.

some days, I’m not sure which side wins.

 

if it’s even about winning.

more so, making room and acknowledging both sides exist

as do you,

and even though you think the pain is too much, which it will be from time to time,

you will grow, like a weed,

as you do.

 

I’d like to say I’m sorry.

for all of that hard and gritty noise.

It sort of bounces and echoes through our bones,

like screaming into a canyon,

and sometimes, I absorb it and it resides in me

 

but like I said,

I’m okay with the weight of your ghosts.

I’m not afraid.

Secretly, I am more afraid of my own depth

 

sometimes it starts as a trickle and moves into a great flood,

I think, “..even Noah struggled with the Arc.”

some things are lost. some things die.

what blossoms in spring, dies in the winter,

(but it’s not really dead, you see?)

 

it is your ability to create and move,

to nurture and grow tiny things.

that is how we rebuild

 

giving new directions a chance to grow on us

a chance for our narrative to take a turn,

like trying to sell a donkey, and in exchange,

a few seeds we don’t know are magic,

until they grow

and we find ourselves walking with giants.